Deluded victims!--never hath this earth
Seen mourning half so mournful as their mirth.
_Here_, to the few whose iron frames had stood
This racking waste of famine and of blood,
Faint, dying wretches clung, from whom the shout
Of triumph like a maniac's laugh broke out:--
_There_, others, lighted by the smouldering fire,
Danced like wan ghosts about a funeral pyre
Among the dead and dying strewed around;--
While some pale wretch lookt on and from his wound
Plucking the fiery dart by which he bled,
In ghastly transport waved it o'er his head!
'Twas more than midnight now--a fearful pause
Had followed the long shouts, the wild applause,
That lately from those Royal Gardens burst,
Where the veiled demon held his feast accurst,
When ZELICA, alas, poor ruined heart,
In every horror doomed to bear its part!--
Was bidden to the banquet by a slave,
Who, while his quivering lip the summons gave,
Grew black, as tho' the shadows of the grave
Compast him round and ere he could repeat
His message thro', fell lifeless at her feet!
Shuddering she went--a soul-felt pang of fear
A presage that her own dark doom was near,
Roused every feeling and brought Reason back
Once more to writhe her last upon the rack.
All round seemed tranquil even the foe had ceased
As if aware of that demoniac feast
His fiery bolts; and tho' the heavens looked red,
'Twas but some distant conflagration's spread.
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